


Of Forgotten Conversations and Mistaken Words

by awkwardacity



Series: Secret Santas 2016 [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Flashpoint Effects, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:58:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8976910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardacity/pseuds/awkwardacity
Summary: There are words on his skin - his soulmate's words; they weren't there before.[Soulmate AU for gretkitt on tumblr for the Allenbert Secret Santa 2016]





	

_Yes - hello, Mr Allen - I can still see you're there and, no, I don't want your help, thank you._

He stares at the words in the mirror. They're charcoal black against his pale skin, scrawled in a neat, looping handwriting just under the curve of the left side of his rib cage. They look like a brand, or maybe a tattoo - whatever they resemble, they're _m_ _emorable_.

The words printed on his skin are a soul mark. The words he's supposed to have known all his life, memorised by heart for when he'll finally hear them, just as every other person on the planet with a mark does.

He's _never_ seen them before - but he's heard them. They echo, word for word, punctuation mark for punctuation mark, the first words he heard his new-old lab partner speak to him earlier that morning.

 _Julian Albert_. He rolls the name around in his head, testing it on his tongue. Everything he's been told, everything he's seen, implies that Julian is not someone Barry likes; the feeling is clearly mutual. Yet soul marks don't lie, and the mirror proves it.

_Um, hello?_

Barry wants to hit himself. Of all the things he could have said to his soul mate, it had to be the most generic of greetings possible. How many times has Julian heard those words at the beginning of an encounter? How many times has his heart stuttered momentarily, only to realise the version of this same phrase wasn't the one he's looking for? And when it finally came, there was no recognition in his eyes, because to him they've known each other for months; to Barry they were never even supposed to meet.

He remembers being bullied relentlessly through middle school; he accidentally let it slip that he didn't have a soul mark to one of the older boys. Not everyone has a soul mark, but it's a high enough percentage that not having one singled him out - especially after news of his parents got out.

Now there's a mark on his flesh, and he can guarantee that if he asks Joe or Iris they won't recall him being bullied about that thing in particular. Plenty of others reasons, he's sure- but not his lack of a soul mark. This opens a whole new line of questioning into the nature of soul marks, and Barry has no clue of where to begin.

His fingers trace the words absentmindedly, the skin goosebumping under his nails, and something unidentifiable rises up inside him like a wave, drowning out everything else. The world - his world - is crumbling before his eyes thanks to his decisions, but this? This might actually be something good.

* * *

Of course, his _something good_ comes with long, tangled strings attached. Julian seems to _hate_ him, if their brief encounters so far are anything to go by. Granted Barry hasn't given him much reason to like him - his thoughts had been on a single track until he saw the mark, to protect his territory.

There's the problem of Iris; their lack of soul marks has always been a bonding factor in their relationship. He's always accepted the two of them were never going to be soul mates, but it never mattered to him because he still loved her; now he has no idea what they are to each other.

How might him actually having a mark have changed them? Since he arrived she's been distant, withdrawn - in ways that can't be explained solely by her lack of trust in Joe. There's an ever-widening fracture between them that he senses has probably been growing for months.

Then there's the problem of his friends - how can he tell them, without revealing how badly he's screwed up?

It turns out he doesn't have to worry about that reason, because in typical fashion the secrets come spilling out in a matter of hours. His hands shake, and his vision blurs with tears, and everything is _so much worse_ than he imagined it to be. He's ruined every life except, apparently, his own. He can't bear to see the looks on their faces - hurt, anger, betrayal; the walls of the world seem to close in on him, black barriers pressing on the edges of his vision, steel weights pressing against his chest, crushing his lungs. He gasps for breath, hands clutching vainly at air.

He wakes up in a hospital bed, Caitlin's face glaring at him from above. There's a harsh edge of disappointment in her eyes - but no anger, and he can see the downwards curve of worry to her lips.

The moment she notices he's awake, she punches him.

"Ow!" he yelps, shying away instinctively. "What was that for?"

"' _What was that for?_ '" she mimics, eyes rolling - she's fingering a scarily long needle distractedly as he speaks, and the heart monitor beside him spikes slightly. "Barry!"

"Okay, I deserved that," he shrugs, burrowing as deep as he can under the thin hospital sheets. His hand brushes the slightly raised skin where his mark is, static jumping through his fingers. "Is- is everyone okay?"

"They're pissed," she says bluntly. "You - you changed _everything_ , Barry, and we don't even know what, or how much. We all have questions- but they can wait until you recover."

"What happened?"

"You had a panic attack and fainted. My guess is the shock of the timeline changes have had more of an effect on your system than you realised."

"That makes sense, I suppose. Can I-"

"No."

"You don't even know what I was going to ask."

"You want to leave - probably to go and talk to your soulmate."

If not for the monitor counting his heartbeats, he would swear his heart falters and stops. "My what?"

Caitlin's eyes light up slightly, the disappointment shadowed momentarily by amusement. "Barry, you talk in your sleep. So who is it?"

"Um. Julian Albert?" It's not supposed to come out as a question, but it does. He's had the mark on his torso for almost two days, he's examined it and poked it to exhaustion, yet saying it out loud tilts the world into a new angle he's never considered; everything slips into its new place and makes sense.

"Julian Albert. The-" Caitlin's eyes widen in realisation, "-the guy from CCPD? The guy you hate?"

"Apparently."

"Wow. That's almost worse luck than me." There's a bitter tone to her words; no one has worse luck than her. Unlike most, her mark was last words rather than first; she had no idea who her soul mate was until he was leaving her and she could do nothing to stop him, and now the words are scarred on her arm: _Cait, we have to try_. She tugs at her sleeve in vague frustration, until Barry grips her hands to still them.

"You've known Julian for months," she says suddenly, pulling her hands away to fold her arms. "How am I only just hearing about this?"

"I've only known him two days, Cait. He wasn't here before I changed things. Your guess is as good as mine."

"So you've got the first words you remember him saying to you? What about him?"

"What do you mean?"

"Does he have the first words he remembers you saying, or the first words you actually spoke to each other in this timeline?"

"I-" His fingers have been tracing the mark absentmindedly for the past few minutes. Now they still, pressing hard against the skin until it hurts. "I don't know."

He's so lost in thought, he hardly notices Caitlin's expression - lips pursed, eyes conflicted. "You're on bed arrest for three more hours. Sleep. Then- go get the guy."

He blinks at her, unsure what to say. Before he can do anything, she leaves.

* * *

He doesn't sleep. He watches the seconds tick by, mind racing too fast, muscles held too tense, to even consider rest. Every second lasts a life time, but his pulse hums in his ears so quickly it blurs into nothing but background noise.

He's out of bed and half way out the door before the last second finishes. His thoughts have barely slowed, so he doesn't think twice about speeding into the lab. Papers fly everywhere, and the world spins momentarily.

The board pen in Julian's hand hits the floor with an echoing clatter.

"Allen." Julian blinks owlishly, his mouth hanging open. "You- you're- what-"

"I think you're my soulmate," Barry blurts out before he can think of the million reasons that might be a bad thing to lead with. "I know this sounds crazy, but hear me out. I'm the Flash-"

"I gathered that much, thanks," Julian snaps, regaining an increment of his composure.

"Would you just listen? I changed the timeline, and because of that I don't know a lot of events that've happened in the last sixteen years. So to me, we only met yesterday, because in the previous timeline we didn't work together. So my mark says the first thing you said to _this_ version of me-"

He stops suddenly, realising how crazy he sounds. He really should've slept on it like Caitlin advised.

"You changed the timeline?" Julian asks. "You can travel through time? How?"

" _That's_ what you gathered from what I just said?" He snatches at the hem of his Star Labs shirt, pulling it up to reveal his mark. It feels strange, being so exposed like this, yet he can't help the way his insides somersault as Julian's eyes catch sight of the mark. Almost involuntarily, Julian reaches forward, his fingers brushing against the skin. A spark jolts through Barry - like lighting; powerful, energising, yet strangely warm.

"I thought..." Julian trails off, and his hand drops down to his side. His shoulders are slumped in what looks like a mix between relief and defeat. Then he's lifting his own shirt, so Barry can see the words scrawled in his own distinct chicken-scratch handwriting: _Screw you too, asshole._

He wants to reach out and touch the words, but his arms are made of lead and refuse to obey. Instead he stares at them - he hears them in his own voice in his head, mouths them out loud. He can't remember saying them, but he did. To him those words are detached, unspoken and unrelated - four simple words that probably ruined his soulmate's childhood.

"I hated you before I even met you." Julian takes a shuddering breath, sitting down heavily in his chair. "People made my life hell for it. When I met you, and you said them - I didn't know whether to be relieved or angry. But then... you acted like nothing happened. There was no mention of it, no recognition, and I thought..."

"You thought I was rejecting you." Barry finishes softly, and things click into place. His heart aches in a way it never has before, as if it might burst right out of his chest.

"But now you tell me that the last year- what? That wasn't you?"

"I'm beginning to think past me was an asshole."

"No arguments from me," Julian snorts. His fingers tap against the desk distractedly.

"I grew up without a soulmark," Barry admits. His eyes focus on the rhythmic tapping, unable to look his soulmate quite in the eye. "I always thought it was because I just didn't have a soulmate. Turns out I was just never supposed to meet you."

They lapse into silence. Barry has no idea where to go from here - now that all their cards are on the table. He really hasn't thought this far ahead.

Julian's chair screeches against the concrete floor as he stands; Barry's attention snaps towards him automatically. "I guess we got off on the wrong foot, then. And since you don't even know me, we have a lot of catching up to do. Do you - want to grab a drink?"

All the tension in Barry's body melts from him, the apprehension he didn't realise was buzzing under his skin fading. He tries not to let it show - but it must, because Julian smirks at him in that smug way Barry has already noticed as a pattern.

"Definitely."


End file.
